


Self-Sacrifice Is Stupid

by FictionalNutter



Series: KinkMeme Prompts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Sam, Fuck Or Die, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:32:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionalNutter/pseuds/FictionalNutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/91490.html?thread=36135778#t36135778">this</a> prompt from the LJ SPN KinkMeme about Sam being hit with a fuck-or-die curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self-Sacrifice Is Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://fictionalnutter.livejournal.com/2269.html).

Sam should have seen it coming. He'd read the lore on crap like this dozens of times, but somehow he hadn't ever really pictured it happening. Really, a curse that forces you to have sex or you'll die? It didn't even sound legit. Sam figured he couldn't really be blamed for figuring that the whole concept was ridiculous.  
  
It hadn't even been a witch this time. They'd been in some stupid curio shop in some backwater town in Florida, and Sam had knocked over a bottle of translucent green dust. Hardly the first time he'd knocked something over, and all it did was make him sneeze. He felt fine, and even managed to give Dean the finger when his brother told him to stop acting like a bull in a china shop.  
  
Two days later, and Sam was sweating. Literally. He'd recognized the symptoms pretty damn quickly, but the fact that the curse had taken so long to hit didn't make any sense. Usually a curse like this would hit within a day, if not within minutes. Sam did a little reading while he could still rationally process stuff and found out that the powder he'd inhaled wasn't so much of a curse as it was a fancy love potion. If it wasn't consummated right away, then it would start to fester until the recipient couldn't take it anymore and died. Sam had no intention of giving up and dying, but this stupid love potion powder was making things extremely complicated for him. As near as he could figure it, the fact that he'd accidentally used it on himself meant that only someone who loved him could stop the effects.  
  
Fantastic. Because Sam had so many devoted admirers. He would hardly have wanted just a random hook up anyway, but love was a monster he didn't really want to mess with. He knew there were people who loved him, but not in that way, and he certainly wasn't going to force this situation on anyone.  
  
The way Sam saw it, there were really only two potential candidates. First was Bobby, and Sam didn't even entertain the notion for a second. That just left Dean. Which, all things considered, Sam would have been psyched about if virtually every aspect of the situation was different. After all, Sam had been fourteen when he'd realized he was completely in love with his big brother. He'd be damned if he let anything so selfish destroy their relationship, so Dean was never going to know. Which, in turn, meant Dean couldn't know about the curse Sam had gotten himself into.  
  
Sam wasn't blind enough to not realize what his death would do to Dean, but he wasn't quite magnanimous enough to give Dean the option of decided what to do for himself. Sam would not be the one to destroy their already quite problematic relationship. Dean would be furious if he knew, but him not knowing was really the whole point, so Sam wasn't too concerned with that.  
  
The love potion powder junk Sam had floating around in his system apparently had a life cycle of four days. It had already been two days, and if he let it get to three then he'd be incapacitated, unable to get out of bed. After that it was one final day of pain wracking his body until his heart gave out. His best bet was to invent a reason to get away from Dean for a few days, but he knew better. Dean would be distraught if Sam disappeared on him, and he'd go crazy until he found him again.  
  
It was at the tail end of this thought process that Dean returned from his supply run, coming into the motel bearing bags full of beer and various snack foods that were good for the road. Sam had been on his laptop, but he was propped up in bed from a complete lack of will to move anywhere else. He knew he was probably drenched in sweat, which there was no way to hide, but he didn't know what else to do.  
  
"Hey, I got you some veggie chips or some shit like that," Dean announced as he walked in, rattling one of the plastic bags to emphasis his point.  
  
Sam's lips twitched into a smile in spite of himself. "Thanks," he replied, wincing as he realized that his voice was shot to hell. Well, there went subtlety.  
  
Dean turned around immediately, eyes going wide when he caught sight of Sam. "Whoa, you look awful! What the hell's wrong with you? You were fine this morning?"  
  
Technically untrue, since Sam had been in pain all day, but the sweating and whatever else was making him look like crap was more recent. "Dunno, must be coming down with something," was the best he could offer.  
  
"Bullshit," Dean announced, setting the bags down and moving towards Sam, who closed the laptop and set it aside with a sigh of resignation. "I know every sign that signals you're getting sick, and you've been fine. What's going on?"  
  
Sam shrugged, not entirely sure how his plan was actually going to work now that he was face-to-face with his brother. "I don't know," he repeated. "I figured I'd just wait it out."  
  
"You think something happened on our last case and it's hitting you late?" Dean asked doubtfully. They'd been taking a short break to stock up various things - hence the trip to the curio shop in the first place - and their last hunt had been well over a week ago. Plus, it had been a lone renegade vampire. Hardly the kind of thing that results in the symptoms of illness.  
  
Sam shook his head. "Nah, I probably just picked up some whack germs in one of those places we've been in." If Dean thought it was just some freak virus, hopefully he'd leave it alone until it was too late. He'd certainly never guess what it really was, that Sam was sure of.  
  
Dean had on what Sam secretly referred to as his thinking face, his brow furrowed as he thought back over the past few days. "Did you touch anything weird? I mean, if some wimpy ass germs got you then that's pretty sad. You usually take more than that to look this bad."  
  
Sam couldn't decide if that was a compliment or not so he ignored the comment. "No, nothing weird," he said as nonchalantly as possible.  
  
"Hold on, what about that place in Florida?" Dean asked suddenly, looking pleased. They had left Florida the day before and planned to spend a few days in Georgia before moving on.  
  
"What place?" Sam asked, swearing internally. He should have known better than to believe Dean would drop it. His brother was like a pit bull, especially when something was wrong with Sam.  
  
"That weird store with all the bizarre stuff," Dean clarified unhelpfully. That really described most of the places they'd gone over the past week or so. "You knocked something over and started sneezing, remember? Maybe it was some super virus or something."  
  
Sam waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, that was a couple days ago. I felt fine until today, so it must be something else."  
  
Dean was looking at him funny, lips pursed.  
  
"What are you looking at me like that for?" Sam asked, surprised by the suspicion in Dean's eyes. Wasn't he a better liar than that? He'd hoped he was, for Dean's sake, but he was beginning to doubt it.  
  
"You know something you're not telling me," Dean announced, scruitinizing Sam's face closely.  
  
Despite his best intentions, Sam could tell that his face betrayed something by the way Dean reacted. He sighed heavily and shook his head. "Just leave it, Dean. I'm sure I'll be fine in a few days." Specifically, less than two days. Also, he'd be dead, but he was pretty sure he was willing to face that.  
  
Dean's face was furious. "What the hell?" He demanded. "You get yourself benched with some mystery illness that you clearly know the source of, but instead you decide to lie to my face?"  
  
Sam shook his head again. "Drop it, Dean. Please?"  
  
His eyes narrowing, Dean darted forward and snagged the laptop, retreating from Sam's reach. "Fine, you won't tell me, I'll do my own research. Something's up, and I'm going to fix it."  
  
Sam groaned and dug his fingers into his temples in frustration. He wasn't trying to be some kind of martyr, really he wasn't, but if Dean knew what needed to be done, the odds are that he would do it. He would freaking sacrifice himself for Sam, because Dean did shit like that, and Sam wasn't having it. It was his turn to protect Dean, and he was damn well going to do it. The history had been cleared, so hopefully Dean wouldn't find what he was looking for. At this point, that Sam's only true line of defense.  
  
Dean was on the laptop for two hours before a sharp inhale warned Sam that he'd found something. Sam looked up to see Dean already staring at him, a war going on behind his eyes.  
  
"So it was the powder?" Dean asked, his tone suggesting that any attempts at denial would not be advised.  
  
Sam nodded, not sure what else to do at this point. He supposed he could always fight his brother off if it came to that, although he didn't have a lot of strength at the moment.  
  
"Any reason you decided not to share the fact that you're dying with me?" Dean demanded, his voice an almost menacing growl.  
  
Sam shrugged. "Because you're a self-sacrificing idiot and I refuse to  do that to you?"  
  
Dean sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "Dude, Sam, you're  _dying_! What, you thought I'd somehow be okay to just sit back and watch you wither wither away?!"  
  
Sam shook his head reluctantly. "No, I know better than that," He admitted.  
  
"So you didn't tell me because you thought I'd volunteer out of some warped desire to keep you safe that makes anything fair game," Dean summed up, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Sam thought about it, then nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot. We're getitng you fixed. This isn't going to be mentally scarring, trust me. Are you afraid of it being traumatic for you?"  
  
Having experienced his fair share of trauma, Sam almost laughed at that. "Not even a little bit," he said, wondering what that said about him.  
  
Shutting the laptop, Dean strolled over to the bed again, arms folded over his chest. "This isn't going to change anything," he said frankly. "I mean, not unless we want it to."  
  
It took Sam a minute to comprehend that, and when the words broke through he looked up at his brother sharply. "What's that mean?"  
  
Dean huffed, and suddenly looked uncomfortable where ten seconds before the prospect of having sex with Sam hadn't even phased him. "Shit, Sammy, this is hardly a new path for my brain to wander down."  
  
Sam was aware that is mouth was hanging open, but it took a second for him to catch up enough to say, "Why didn't you say something?!"  
  
Dean looked surprised. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
It occurred to Sam that he also could have revealed his own attraction years ago, but he wasn't feeling entirely rational. It might have had something to do with his impending death, but he didn't really care at this point. "I've been in love with you since I was fourteen!" He blurted. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep that a secret?"  
  
It was Dean's turn to look shocked, then all of a sudden he was sitting on the side of the bed by Sam, looking seriously into his eyes. "Are you serious?" He asked gravely.  
  
"Yes!" Sam emphasized, almost irritated. "Now how damn long have you been keeping your little secret?"  
  
"I don't know!" Dean protested. "Since I was, jeez, seventeen maybe? I don't know, it just always seemed wrong and I didn't want to screw you up with my issues."  
  
Sam laughed. "Yeah, welcome to the club." Distantly, it occurred to him that apparently his reason for dying no longer existed. "I've decided I'm done being noble," he announced. "Apparently there was no point, so can you get over here and help me with this?"  
  
"And by this you mean the spell you're under where unless someone who loves you has sex with you you're going to die in two days?" Dean asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. "The one you decided to lie to me about in hopes of protecting me from something I've been having wet dreams about since I was a teenager?"  
  
Sam flushed and made a face at his brother. "Fine, we both kept our true thoughts secret because we're idiots who can't communicate, and apparently ridiculous self sacrifice is genetic!"  
  
Dean shrugged. "Fair enough." All further conversation was cut off by the bruising kiss Dean placed on Sam's lips, forcing his brother to open up to him and taking full advantage of the opportunity to explore with his tongue, swallowing both the surprised noise and subsequent moan his brother released from the sensations.  
  
While his mouth was occupied, Sam's hands moved to Dean's button up and began deftly removing it, sparing a fleeting thought to be impressed at his ability to be so dextrous while so absurdly aroused. Maybe he could win a Guiness Record for that or something. A perfectly timed flick of Dean's tongue removed any other consideration of his skill at unbuttoning things as he gasped and finally managed to remove Dean's shirt, which required no small effort in fighting with his brother to get the damn garment off.  
  
Succumbing to his younger brother's whims momentarily, Dean backed off briefly and said, "If I'm stripping, so are you!" He then proceeded to strip off his v-neck and begun to shuck off his jeans.  
  
Sam laughed out loud and immediately removed his own shirts, struggling with his jeans for a moment before managing to get them off and toss them across the room in irritation. Dean was on his neck, bititng and sucking before Sam even had a moment to react to the amazing feeling of actually seeing his brother in all his glory.  
  
"When did you become the Hulk, Sammy, huh?" Dean asked with a grin, taking only the briefest pause to comment before returning to his apparent quest to explore Sam with his mouth, something the younger Winchester had no plans to stop.  
  
Having to catch his breath to reply, Sam managed to pant out, "About the time I got taller than you, jerk," he snarked, laughing breathlessly as Dean nipped at his side for the dig.  
  
Pulling back slightly, Dean leaned forward to palm their erections together, grinning wickedly when Sam shuddered violently at the sensation. "Whatever you say, bitch."  
  
Sam growled and pawed at Dean's back, scratching his short nails over every inch of skin he could reach and grinning broadly at the shudder he got in response. "You'd better have lube," he pointed out, choking out the last word as Dean's hands slipped in and pinched his nipples in retaliation.  
  
Dean nodded, looking pleased, before a look of irritation crossed his face. "In the damn duffle bag," he griped, glaring across the room as if it was somehow the bag's fault.  
  
With a laugh, Sam pushed him hard, almost knocking his brother off the bed. "You'd better get it then!" He taunted.  
  
Dean's eyes darkened, the color in his irises nearly gone as he strode over to his bag, dug around for what seemed like less than a second before he was back at the bed with a bottle in his hand and a predatory look in his eyes. "Well, you're the one who's dying," Dean snarked. "What position do you want, Sammy?"  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, but slid down the pillows on the bed and lifted his legs, pulling at them with his hands until his knees almost touched his ears. He gave his brother a heavy lidded gaze and raised an eyebrow. "This work for you?"  
  
"That is so not fair," Dean muttered, but he was inbetween Sam's legs in one swift motion, the cap of the bottle being removed and a cool sensation at Sam's entrance before the younger hunter could even blink.  
  
"Jeez!" Sam jumped slightly in surprise. "That's cold, asshat!"  
  
Dean snorted and ignored him, rubbing maddening little circles around Sam's hole until Sam wa swearing at him to get on with it, panting so hard the words had no real bite to them. Dean obliged by sliding one finger all the way in, relishing Sam's loss of breath for a split second. This may have been their first time, but Dean was no stranger when it came to reading his brother. He slid his finger out and pushed back in with a second, scissoring as he went, pausing only briefly to make sure Sam adjusted.  
  
"You done this before?" Sam demanded, his breaths coming faster and faster now, his cock straining as he focused on keeping from blowing until he actually had his brother inside of him.  
  
Dean looked up, catching Sam's eye and winking. "Not with a dude," he said lasciviously.  
  
Sam punched out a laugh, his head falling back as Dean took advantage of the distraction to add a third finger. "God-just get in me already!" He gasped out, glaring at the look of amusement on his brother's face.  
  
"Oh, don't worry, baby boy," Dean all but growled. He lined himself up and teased at his brother's entrance for a moment, enjoying the grunt of frustration. "You ready?"  
  
"Long past," Sam bit back, but his eyes were bright and excited.  
  
Dean pushed in without warning, reaching forward to grab Sam's hips for leverage as he bottomed out in his brother.  
  
"GOD!" Sam yelled, his eyes going wide and all the air leaving him in a gasp.  
  
Dean had no words, the tightness of Sam around him too much to focus on coming up with a complete sentence. He waited for a moment, wanting to make sure Sam had adjusted before he moved, just in case.  
  
"Dean, I swear to God if you don't move-" Sam was cut off as Dean oblidged, taking his brother's word for it and pulling out only to thrust back in with another motion that drove the air right out of Sam.  
  
Dean wasn't sure he'd ever heard anything as intoxicating as Sam chanting his name as he gasped for breath, each thrust seeming to take him by shock. He knew the moment he'd found the angle to hit Sam's prostate dead on by the strangled scream that erupted from his brother's throat and the sudden increase in pre-come dripping from his brother's cock. Dean knew he wasn't going to laste long, so he reached forward and grasped Sam's cock, swiping his thumb through the pre-come and using it to slicken his grip as he stroked, grinning at the whines the movement drew from his brother's throat.  
  
"Dean!" Sam gasped out, his head thrown back. "If you - stop - I'm gonna -"  
  
"Go ahead, Sammy," Dean confirmed, speeding up. "I'm right there with you!"  
  
With a final thrust, Dean came with a shout, noting with a pleased smile as Sam spilled out over his hand, the younger Winchester practically collapsing on the bed, arms falling to his sides and his legs falling back into place. After a moment Dean slid out and fell on his back beside Sam, both of them breathing hard.  
  
"We should probably talk about this," Sam admitted after a minute.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. "You and your talks. You still dying?"  
  
Sam thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "I think I'm good."  
  
"Then it can wait." Dean yawned and shifted until he was a little further up the bed and could lean against Sam.  
  
Sam chuckled and tilted his head towards Dean, resting against the top of his brother's head. "You want to get a washcloth or something?" He hinted.  
  
Dean grumbled for a moment before pushing to his feet, wandering to the bathroom and returning with a damp washcloth. He had rinsed his hand in the sink, and he used the cloth to wipe the remaining come off of Sam's stomach and where it had leaked between his legs. Throwing it across the room, he fell back into place beside Sam with a grunt. "Happy?"  
  
"Yeah, actually," Sam acknowledged, amused.  
  
Dean smirked, eyes drifting closed. "Glad I could help."  
  
"We're talking in the morning?" Sam double checked.  
  
Dean waved him off. "Yeah, Sammy. We can talk."  
  
Making a contended noise, Sam finally relaxed and let out a yawn. "Good." He was feeling oddly relieved that his plan to let himself die hadn't worked out. As he reached down to pull a blanket over himself and Dean, he decided to save the introspection for the morning. For now, just knowing Dean actually  _loved_  him was more than enough.


End file.
